With every ending, there's a new beginning

We've been home for a few days now and I'm still trying to wrap my head around the events from the past couple of weeks. It seems rather . . . surreal. Hearing about my dad's passing, the nonsense surrounding everything that needed to be done before the funeral could be scheduled, trying to decide between flying and driving (the injury I sustained to my chest earlier in the month had to be taken into consideration since I'm not suppose to lift anything heavier than the baby) . . . everything seemed to exacerbate my already excessive stress level.

 

Dad died a little after 5am on Thursday, January 13th. My aunt called on Sunday, January 16th, to let me know we were still waiting for the doctor to sign the death certificate so we could schedule first the cremation and then the funeral/memorial service. A couple of days later, we were still waiting for the certificate to be filed with the medical examiner. We could only plan to make plans.

 

Once everything was finally scheduled, we decided to drive to Texas instead of fly. Now, a 10 hour road trip doesn't leave much time for site-seeing, but we still managed to find a few chuckle worthy things along the way.

 

First off, while driving down I-44, we saw a warehouse in Joplin, on the southern side of the highway, with the letters F-A-G in bright red. Turns out, it's F*G Bearings Corporation. Personally, I feel that particular three-letter word should only be associated with any of the definitions I've found on Dictionary.com, but our society automatically reverts to the more negative connotation. Regardless, I'll admit I did laugh when I saw the sign . . . who wouldn't?

 

Not long after crossing into Oklahoma, I saw a road sign warning hitchhikers could be escaped convicts. Of course, seeing two separate men in two separate locations while driving through the state reminded me of the sign as did driving past the Oklahoma Correctional Facility (both men were seen after passing the prison . . . former "residents"?). Apparently, there are others that like this sign; www.moellenhoff.de is one of the many sites I've found that mentioned it. This also brings me to driving down US Route 69 since the prison is located along this highway. Also, I noticed more than a few gas stations/convenience stores named Kum & Go . . . these last two speak for themselves.

 

We also saw many adult stores along the different highways, Pharmers Tan, Frink Baptist Church (Can you imagine Professor Frink from "The Simpsons" having his own church?) and a billboard advertising www.condomstogousa.com.

Yes, I have pictures to document some of these gems.

 

Once we hit the Dallas/Fort Worth area, the fun REALLY began. We were using my iPad to track traffic and double-check the directions from MapQuest. Imagine the joy of driving through a strange city when your back-up navigational suddenly goes wonky; the little blue pin tracking our progress kept jumping around to locations we were nowhere near! Eventually, we made it to the hotel, but the iPad almost didn't. UGH!!!

 

The next day, we did a little sightseeing including driving to Wal-Mart to pick up some things we forgot. I include this as "sightseeing" since Wal-Mart is across the street from Cowboy Stadium and we were able to watch the workers as they set up for the Super Bowl! After our little jaunt around Arlington, we headed over to my aunt and uncle's house to meet more family and the reverend who would be handling the memorial service.

 

Once the minister left and we had all returned from a late lunch, the aunts and I went through some old photographs my grandmother had kept. It was nice to hear the family stories, but also extremely painful . . . even though there is a genetic bond, I didn't know these people. I think it was the first time I realized exactly how much I had missed out on over the years. From what I could tell, they all seemed so close.

 

Monday morning, January 24th, everyone met at the Dallas-Fort Worth National Cemetary for the interment ceremony followed by the memorial service at Bean-Massy-Burge Funeral Home.

 

It was in the mid-30's (expected high in the 60's) as we all gathered under the pavilion. My aunt, brother and I sat on one concrete bench, another aunt and my uncle sat on the other while the remaining family and friends stood behind us. It almost felt like an act of solidarity; we were united in our grief. I couldn't stop my mind from wandering during the flag ceremony, asking the questions only Dad could answer.

 

At the funeral home, I met even more family and we all milled around socializing before the service began. The minister SLAUGHTERED my married name which made me smile, but he kept going on about how important family was to my dad . . . it took all I had to not speak out. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure family was important to him, but why did he choose to not be in my life? Where had he been for the past 37 years?

 

Back at my aunt's, friends of theirs had brought TONS of food (typical southern hospitality that I'm accustomed to thanks to my upbringing) so we all sat around eating and sharing even more family stories. I've never been very comfortable being the center of attention unless I was doing something that would command such a thing so you can imagine how I felt being surrounded by people who remembered me as a baby/toddler and had tons of questions to ask and stories to tell. Overall, everyone made us feel very welcome and it's nice to know I have family out there.

Before we left, my aunt asked me if, since I'm the oldest, would I want Dad's flag . . . I'm now shopping around for a display case. She also gave me a clock my grandmother gave him years ago and bunches of pictures. My cousin and her husband even did a slide show with family pictures (including one of my parents on their wedding day and another of cutsie, little me) and some of Dad's favorite songs which I also have a copy of (I swear my cousin-in-law had pockets that were the equivalent of a clown car since he seemed to be producing a never-ending supply of discs). We also brought home one of the plants from the funeral . . . another cousin (he's a psychologist) named it Archimedes.

 

The unpacking has been completed and, since we've been home, I've been working on getting laundry caught up. The baby was mmmmmm-ing when I picked up the kids and is now saying "mama". My daughter's best friend went into labor and had her son while we were gone as well (he's such a cutie). Bottom line? Life goes on. In the meantime, we're planning on going back in May for the family reunion . . . maybe we'll even become a regular fixture at these get-togethers.